


Act I: Reminiscing

by KitiaraM



Series: Kaja Hawke [5]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-26
Updated: 2011-05-26
Packaged: 2017-11-20 07:29:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitiaraM/pseuds/KitiaraM





	Act I: Reminiscing

She lay in the darkness, vainly trying to get to sleep in the close, still heat of Gamlen's hovel. Too kind a word for it, really. Her thoughts churned; a lot had happened in the past several days. Suddenly she had all these new -- well, too soon to call them friends. Acquaintances? Some she already felt would become friends. Varric had grown on her quickly. They were far too much alike. And the others her thoughts wandered.

Hmm. Maybe she was getting the hang of this flirting thing. It was a novel experience for her, to be sure. She hadn't exactly been the most popular girl in Lothering, for... many reasons. But now she found herself spouting lines like, like -- _oh Maker, I have to stop reading Varric's 'novels'!_

They hadn't seemed to be offended, though, either of them. Fenris had laughed, true, but it hadn't been that kind of laugh. More of a surprised, pleased chuckle. Anders, however -- he'd responded in kind at first, and then backpedaled so fast, she just had to poke at him a bit when he got a little over-dramatic. The expression on his face! Remembering that brought a smug smile to her own.

Both of them seemed to have some serious issues, though. And she wasn't quite ready for another relationship yet. She smiled sadly as she pictured Delwin: dark hair swept forward rakishly, the ever-present hint of stubble that accented his lean jaw, and that deceptively strong, lithe body. She'd met him her first day in Cailan's army. Like her he fought with dual daggers, although his main hand weapon was more of a longsword. He'd taught her so much, not all of it swordplay. Well, **that** kind of swordplay.

He'd flirted with her outrageously from the start. Previous experience had made her wary, though, and she'd turned aside his advances with a joke and a smile. It didn't faze him. His cheerful insouciance never dimmed; he would just grin, teeth flashing whitely in his dark face, and wink. Come to think of it, Isabela reminded her a bit of him. _Maybe it's a Rivaini thing._

She was pretty sure he'd planned that night of drinking to get her into his tent, but by then she had already decided that it was time. If he had been surprised at her, ah, inexperience, he hadn't shown it. Good thing she was a fast learner. They certainly had practiced enough after that! She stifled a snicker, remembering Carver's reaction. He really hadn't had room to talk; she knew he'd been visiting the 'unofficial' camp women. 

But thinking of him led inexorably to other, less pleasant memories. That night she still woke in a cold sweat sometimes, dreaming of that last battle at Ostagar. Being a new recruit, she'd been at the rear for the previous battles. She'd never even had to draw her daggers. But this! All the training in the world couldn't have prepared her for the close-up sight of darkspawn in the flesh. And nothing could have prepared her for the reality of battle; how fast it was, frenetic, noisy, confusing. The din was incredible; mabari howls, the clash of metal, men yelling. The screams of the injured. And then the smells -- the coppery tang of blood, the rotted corpse-smell of the darkspawn, the smell of shit and piss from the dead... 

She shook herself to break the memory's hold. Quietly she got up and picked up her armor, taking it into the other room to put it on before slipping out of the door. It was somewhat cooler outside; at least there was usually a breeze coming off the sea. Not much made it into Lowtown, but some. She leaned against the wall, hidden in shadow, feeling the sweat dry on her skin. The memories wouldn't be denied, though.

The battle had dissolved into total chaos, everyone panicking as the promised reserves never showed. She'd hunted desperately for Carver and, incredibly, found him, but by then they had to run if they wanted to live. Not just for themselves; they had to get to Mother and Bethany. So they had fled, with her not knowing if Delwin was alive or dead. Probably dead; as an experienced fighter, he had been in the thickest part of the battle.

 _Did I love him?_ She wasn't sure. If things had been different, if there hadn't been a Blight -- well, if there hadn't, she would never have met him. From the first he'd said, no promises; for them there was no past, no future, just the present. That was all she had wanted, then. But she thought she might have been falling in love with him. 

She shook herself. It didn't matter now. He was gone, and Lothering was gone. Her old life was gone. And she had to get some sleep if she was going to get anything done tomorrow. Varric had several leads on jobs to earn the coin she needed for the expedition. She would be far too busy in the coming days to dwell on the past.


End file.
